


# 205 Gratification

by Whilenotwriting



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: The infamous green sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6810607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whilenotwriting/pseuds/Whilenotwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telling the (short) tale of the origin of the green sweater and how Jack came to wear it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).



> Fire_Sign promised I would fic. I did not believe her. But along came knitwear. I didn't stand a chance really. Based on an idea from aljohnson.

noun  
1.  
the state of being gratified; great satisfaction.  
2.  
something that gratifies; source of pleasure or satisfaction.  
3.  
the act of gratifying.  
4.  
Archaic. a reward, recompense, or gratuity.

 

It had been presented as a Christmas in July gift. Dorothy Williams was a kind woman, and didn’t want anyone to feel left out. There should be a gift, even if Mr. Butler had to stay at Wardlow while the others left for the mountains. She had waited for him to open it, and in retrospect he was grateful that he was never a man given to big words and facial expressions. And he was touched. He really was. “Nobody has knitted me anything since Mrs … Thank you, Dot.” But the thought of actually wearing it? He was a man of certain standards. 

It was good fortune, really, or perhaps an act of the god he no longer believed in, that the Inspector and constable Collins came by Wardlow on their way to the mountains. (Not that it was much of a recompense for Mrs Butler, but it went some way to show that good things still happened in the world). Not only was it his duty as a fellow human being to make sure the Inspector did not freeze to death in the snow (he was not as concerned for young Collins - not that he wanted him dead of course - but he did after all have a steady supply of knitwear coming his way ) – it was, truth be told, his duty to himself as a man to rid his closet of this hideous garment. 

It wasn’t very polite to pass on a present, but it was the RIGHT THING to do. And Dot would get over it at some point. And after all, he had planned to retire in 5 years’ time.


	2. Chapter 2

Hugh Collins wasn’t an expert on clothing. Not by far. But he recognized the collar and the color (who wouldn’t) the moment Mr. Butler gave it to the Inspector. This would be bad. There was every chance Dottie’s eyes would narrow and she would go silent. Silent except for some very pointed remarks. Still, Hugh Collins had learned the hard way. When Dottie and clothing somehow intermingled he should hold his tongue. This would be bad, but trying to fix things could only make it worse. 

His hopes rose when the Inspector protested, “Thank you, Mr. Butler, but as you can see, I am not in want of wool.” They shattered however as Mr Butler countered, “A true work of art, that cabled jumper is, sir, but trust a man in service, white wool does not go well with blood.”

For the duration of the drive Hugh found himself hoping for a murderer more devoted to poison than to knives.  
\---  
The first day went well enough, he supposed. Too bad about the second murder, but that was not more than was expected with Miss Fisher around. He was here with Dottie, the house was warm and there was plenty of food, and the Inspector used his cream jumper. He kept his jacket on, though, even indoors. Probably wise, Hugh reasoned. The second murder had not been that bloody, but who knew if there would be more?

Luck ran out the second day. Not just for the poor man killed. Jack Robinson was wearing Mr Butler's gift. And despite his efforts to keep Dottie occupied in the kitchen, and the Inspector anywhere else, there was no avoiding the inevitable once they’d overheard what Isobel said. He had been correct. She did that thing with her eyes. And as they left Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson to interrogate the girl he caught himself praying, “Dear Lord, let me live to see another day.” And he was not sure if it was the murderer or Dottie he feared the most.


	3. Chapter 3

Miss Fisher heard them in the corridor – fast steps and the pleading voice of Hugh Collins. “Dottie, there is no need for both of us. Go back and keep Isobel company.”

Her voice came from further down the hall, the sound of even faster footsteps telling she was doing her best to catch up. “Why? She won’t be able to go anywhere. And I’ve been in the kitchen the whole day.”

The door opened, with Hugh stopping in the opening, making no sign of wanting to come inside or let Dot pass. “Inspector. Miss Fisher. I think you should have a word with young Isobel.”

As Jack moved towards the door Hugh seemed to realize he had to move and interestingly enough he seemed very reluctant to do so, backing up out the doorway, almost into Dot who was standing behind him. Phryne would have laughed, but then saw Dot’s friendly face go rigid at the sight of the Inspector.

“New jumper, Inspector? Excellent needlework. I don’t think I could have done it better myself.” Not even Hugh Collins could have mistaken that for a compliment, Phryne thought, but dear Jack Robinson for choosing to answer as if it were. “Yes, yes, thank you. It was a gift.”  
“It doesn’t sit right around the shoulders,” Dot muttered as the men disappeared down the hallway. “One should think it had been knitted for someone else entirely.”


End file.
